One day in the mountains, a thousand years in the world.

By the time they returned to the capital, five days had passed. Ding Yi stood on tiptoe, his neck stretched several inches longer from waiting, finally seeing the two arrive.

He rushed over and hugged Yan Sanhe’s horse tightly. “Miss Yan, you’ve finally returned.”

“What?”

Yan Sanhe dismounted and sneered. “Whose coffin cracked again?”

More frightening than a cracked coffin!

Ding Yi obsequiously took the reins, all smiles. “His Highness has sent people to inquire after Miss Yan several times.”

Yan Sanhe: “Did the coffin crack?”

Ding Yi covered his mouth and looked around, lowering his voice. “It didn’t crack, but there are still sounds.”

Yan Sanhe: “If it didn’t crack, it’s not a heart demon. If it’s not a heart demon, don’t come looking for me. Even if you do, it’s useless.”

Ding Yi’s gaze turned to his master for help.

Master, at least say something!

His master cleared his throat. “Go tell His Highness that Miss Yan is truly powerless in this matter.”

Master, you’re abandoning brotherhood for beauty!

Ding Yi gritted his teeth and sidled closer to Yan Sanhe again.

“Miss Yan, recently there’s been another strange matter. Many people have died in the capital—the coffin shops don’t have enough coffins, they all have to be transported from outside.”

Yan Sanhe: “Has the old imperial physician from the Shen residence died?”

Ding Yi nodded.

Yan Sanhe: “Then that’s right—black-hearted and black-lunged, he had to take them all with him.”

Ding Yi: “…”

Yan Sanhe took the reins from Ding Yi and told Xie Zhifei beside her, “I won’t return to the residence first. I’m going out to handle something.”

Xie Zhifei didn’t ask where she was going or what she was handling, only smiled gently. “Come back early. Warrior Li is still waiting anxiously.”

Another sentence striking her heart.

She’d heard too many of these along the way. At first she found them glib, but tasting them carefully, they felt very warm.

“Alright!”

After the person left, Ding Yi said, “Master, have you noticed that Miss Yan’s tongue has become somewhat poisonous?”

Xie Zhifei patted Ding Yi’s shoulder. “The estate is short one person to haul manure. Want to try?”

It’s over—speaking ill of Miss Yan behind her back, the master is being protective.

Ding Yi quickly put on a fawning expression. “Master, I’m worried about Miss Yan going alone to handle things. Should we follow from a distance?”

Xie Zhifei snorted through his nose.

“Tomorrow is the new Emperor’s enthronement ceremony. The Military Security Bureau has surely been too busy to touch ground these past days, yet you want to go follow Yan Sanhe and slack off—you’re very skilled at muddling through.”

Miss Li was right after all.

A man’s heart is a needle at the bottom of the sea—no one can figure out what they’re thinking.

Ding Yi’s face ashen, looked at his master and dejectedly closed his mouth.

Xie Zhifei mounted his horse and shouted to Ding Yi, “Hurry up and get to work.”

The enthronement ceremony was a major matter—not the slightest error could occur. Though he acted like nothing was wrong in front of Yan Sanhe, inside he was anxious to death.

As for Yan Sanhe’s safety…

He turned his head for a deep look into the distance. That boring gourd was there!

…

“At the end of that road where you knocked me unconscious, there’s a residence. Under the bed in the second courtyard, there are five bundles.”

The first thing Yan Sanhe did upon entering the capital was to go see what those five bundles contained.

The end of that road was near the Prince of Han’s residence, surrounded by armored Imperial Guards, each with piercing eyes.

Forget people—even the omnipresent stray cats were scared away by this murderous aura.

“Who goes there?”

Yan Sanhe was predictably stopped, her expression calm. “Yan Sanhe, adopted daughter of Cabinet Minister Xie Daozhi.”

The Imperial Guard captain narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“My adoptive father purchased a residence for me ahead. I’ve come to look.”

Yan Sanhe produced the property deed and keys Dong Chengfeng had given her, pointing to the northeast corner. “Officer, it’s just ahead.”

The Imperial Guard captain took them, but his gaze didn’t leave Yan Sanhe’s face, scrutinizing her for quite some time before looking down to inspect the items.

The deed was genuine.

It was said that Xie Daozhi did indeed have an adopted daughter.

“Hurry along. Don’t linger here.”

“Yes, officer.”

Yan Sanhe led her horse and quickly reached the residence entrance.

She took out the key and inserted it into the already rusted copper lock.

The lock clicked open. She removed it, pushed open the long-mottled vermillion door, stepped across the threshold, and closed the door.

Yan Sanhe’s legs weakened as she leaned against the door’s back, cold sweat emerging from her forehead.

Two Imperial Guards had followed her the entire way. Only when she pushed open the vermillion door did those two withdraw their gazes and turn to leave.

After recovering for some time, Yan Sanhe surveyed the residence before her.

The residence was very large, completely desolate, with weeds along the walls taller than a person.

She headed straight for the second courtyard.

The courtyard was square, also overgrown with weeds, with a main hall in the center and side rooms left and right.

Generally, the left side room was for living. Yan Sanhe went straight left.

To her surprise, the room didn’t even have spider webs—it was spotlessly clean.

She bent down to look—under the bed sat a camphor wood chest.

The chest had no lock, just a layer of dust on top.

Yan Sanhe laboriously pulled the chest out and opened the camphor wood lid.

Inside were indeed five bundles.

She opened one, her gaze freezing as her face suddenly turned deathly pale.

Before her eyes was a red cloth belly band embroidered with a phoenix among peonies.

Turning further down was a slightly larger infant garment.

Further down, those garments grew in size.

Then she quickly opened the second bundle, the third bundle… When the last one was unwrapped, Yan Sanhe was stunned.

A phoenix-embroidered red robe.

A crimson double-peacock embroidered cloud-gold tassel ceremonial robe.

A red skirt.

Red trousers.

A pair of red satin embroidered flower shoes, with a red fertility pouch placed on top.

In this world, women only wore red from inside out, top to bottom, on their wedding day.

Those hands that only diagnosed pulses, only wielded needles, had finally one day also picked up needle and thread to make garments with less-than-fine stitches for her daughter whose whereabouts were unknown, one garment per year.

From birth’s first cries to phoenix crown and ceremonial robe.

Yan Sanhe stared blankly at that red robe, her hand moving inch by inch to touch it. Suddenly her nose stung and tears fell.

Seventeen years—vast changes.

Year after year, how many lonely nights must she have endured, how many bitter tears must she have swallowed, to live on alone and bedraggled with all these memories?

Seventeen years—mountains rise and valleys fall.

Night after night, how many dreams must she have dreamed, dreams filled with wishes she couldn’t fulfill even in death—

I want to give her a home, dress her in the most beautiful clothes, style her hair in the prettiest braids.

When it’s hot, I’ll fan her.

When it’s cold, I’ll cover her with quilts.

I want to accompany her as she grows, watch her babble, toddle on unsteady feet.

On her coming-of-age day, I’ll personally pin her hairpins.

I’ll find her the gentlest man in the world, a man who’ll love only her.

I’ll personally place her hand in that man’s palm.

I’ll watch the backs of the husband and wife as they leave, feeling both gratified contentment and tears streaming down my face…

Yan Sanhe’s tears rolled down endlessly.

“Mother, I’m not afraid of ghosts. Come see me in my dreams!”